


My Strawberry

by FandomDarling99



Series: My Only Sunshine [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Breastfeeding, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes is a good mother, C-Section, Childbirth, Mentions of Blood, Mpreg, Parent-Child Relationship, Post Mpreg, Self Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomDarling99/pseuds/FandomDarling99
Summary: A small collection of stories regarding Bucky doing his best to raise his daughter.





	1. A Bloody Hello

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it. Feel free to leave comments. If you like it so much that you want to make art, go right ahead. Link it to me on Twitter or Tumblr.  
> _Tiny_Mushroom_ on Twitter, wife-to-loki-of-asgard on Tumblr.

 It had been an odd eight months filled with confusion, panic, and constant worry. He was always looking over his shoulder. Always checking for and avoiding security cameras. Never staying in the same city or town or village for too long. Never doing anything that might draw attention to himself. Never taking off the jacket that hid the swell of his growing stomach.

 Everything was so fuzzy and jumbled in his mind, and for the first few months, he had only been certain of a few things. He knew the basics of himself because of what he had read back in the museum in DC. He knew he had been with HYDRA. He knew he had known Captain America, Steve Rogers, a very long time ago. He had been his mission. But there was time he had been his friend. And he knew there was a baby in him, growing and living. Innocent and unaware. It all made his head hurt.

 As the months passed and his stomach got bigger, Bucky remembered and learned more. Fleeting memories of gunfire and Steve Rogers' face were common in his dreams. The smell of burning sugar made him think of a cold autumn day in a vaguely familiar kitchen. The taste of a hot dog brought back images of an old amusement park and the sound of people screaming in delight as they rode a roller coaster. Children's laughter brought forth the hazy happiness of playing stickball in the street. He wrote what he could remember down in journals, not wanting anything to be lost once more. He educated himself of what he had been and what he had done by looking in old history books. Vintage photographs show him and a group of other men behind Captain America, guns in their hands and determination in their eyes. Bucky had fought HYDRA. Then he had been HYDRA. And now…he was alone. Well, not truly alone.

 Stealing was easy. And necessary in order to get what he needed for the baby. Blankets, cloth diapers, a first aid kit, one book on birth and another on newborn care. Tiny clothes and the smallest socks. Bottles were unnecessary, as breasts had shockingly began to take shape in the final months of the pregnancy. That part was a bit unsettling, and the new parts were sore, but Bucky reasoned that it was for the best. At least the child would eat. When faced with a crowded city or town, Bucky would enter a public library, still bundled and hiding his form, and find a computer to do research. He had found a older documentary series regarding how infants developed, called 'The Baby Human', and treated those episodes like a bible, writing down everything in separate journals as to always have a reference.   

 The whole process of pregnancy was grueling; the vomiting, the aching feet, the heartburn, the oddest food cravings, pissing every ten minutes. He never got exceptionally huge, but he was big enough for it to be a hindrance. But there were some amazing things that made every second worth it. The kicking against the wall of his stomach gave him strength to keep going. The thought of a smiling child in his arms, safe and warm, brought a smile to his face. It was hard, but wonderful.

 Bucky knew it was time during his trek through the countryside of Kazakhstan while looking for a place to rest that early morning. The pain was minimal at first, like small muscle cramps. He shook them off and kept walking for a few more hours. By the time he came across an old abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, the pain was almost unbearable. He gritted his teeth and tried to breath evenly as he pushed open the splintering wooden door and stumbled into the living room of the dilapidated house. There was a handful of aged furniture and a fireplace. A staircase led up to the upper level, and there was a small hallway that presumably led to a kitchen, but Bucky was in far too much pain to explore the rest of the house.

 He dropped to the floor, leaning his back against the wall as he shrugged off his backpack and dumped out its contents. Multiple items clattered to floor, but Bucky first grabbed the large pocket knife, the small first aid kit, and a hand-mirror and prayed that he wouldn't bleed to death.

   "Alright, kid." He groaned, flicking open the pocket knife and putting it to his lower stomach after positioning the mirror so he could see. "Let's get to it."

 Bucky held back his yell of pain as he sliced horizontally through the first layer of flesh, blood immediately beginning to flow. He paused a moment to grab one of the towels that had been in the backpack and wipe away some of the blood before he used his fingers to pull the skin out of way. He then made a second cut into the uterus, this time actually crying out from the pain. The reflection in the mirror showed a section of what was clearly a head; a tiny, pale head covered in blood and fluid matted hair. The baby. His baby.

   "Almost got you." He muttered, dropping the pocket knife to floor and bringing his trembling hands to the incisions, working his fingers inside and getting a hold on the slippery infant. Gently, ever so gently, Bucky began to ease the child out with small movements. He ignored the pain and the blood and focused only on the baby. He pushed every other thought aside. Nothing else mattered.

 And then it was over. A wiggling, bloody baby girl covered in God knows what was in his hands, whining and coughing. Bucky moved on pure instinct, swiping a finger through her tiny mouth until he was able to locate the small suction bulb he had lifted from a drugstore some time ago. The infant screamed once her airways were properly cleared, and it was the most wonderful sound in the universe.

 The next few minutes were a blur of quickly rubbing the baby clean, tying off the umbilical cord, removing the placenta, and stitching himself back up with the sutures provided in the first aid kit. By that point, he didn't even mind the pain anymore. It had become a mere annoyance compared to what else was happening. The screeching child bundled in the towel by his feet was the biggest concern, who gave a damn if his stomach hurt?

 After severing the umbilical cord, Bucky cradled the shrieking bundle to his chest, panting and sweating while silent tears streaked down his face. "Mama's got you. I've got you, baby."

 

 

 Bucky used a few pieces of old chairs and floorboards to get a fire started, and dragged the tattered sofa closer to the fireplace before stumbling to the kitchen. The sink had a pump faucet that thankfully still worked, which Bucky used to wet a towel so he could begin to clean the baby off more. He gently set her on the kitchen counter, unraveling the bloody towel and freeing her flailing arms. She had stopped crying, moving on to making soft coos. Bucky took a moment to really look at her now that his head was clear. She was a tiny thing, but he supposed all newborns were. She had yet to open her eyes, but her hair had turned out to be pitch black and rather fluffy. Turns out the old wives tale of having heartburn meant that your baby would have hair was true. She had all ten fingers and all ten toes and she was absolutely perfect.

   "You might not like this, little lady." Bucky muttered softly as he began to run the corner of the damp cloth across his daughter's cheek. The baby scrunched up her face and fussed, but didn't scream.

   "Oh, so angry. Mama needs to get you clean. Nice and clean, and then I'll get you warm and you can eat. Won't that be nice? Well, hello there. You want to take a look around?"

 The infant had managed to open her eyes, revealing them to be blue like Bucky's. She stared blankly, blinked three times, then let them slip back closed with a little whine.

   "Tired, huh? Me too. But I don't think I'm going to be getting much sleep now that you're here. That's ok, though. I know you're worth it. I'll be honest with you, kid, it's not going to be amazing. I'm wanted. And I don't think we'll ever stop running. I wish I could give you something better. But I can't give you up. There are some bad people out there who'd do terrible things if they got their hands on you. The safest place is with me, believe it or not. Besides, you're my girl, aren't you? My baby girl. Like hell I'd give you up. There we go, all clean. Alright, come to Mama."

 Bucky returned to the living room and collapsed into the sofa by the flickering fire, grabbing one of the blankets and cloth diapers he had brought with him. With some difficulty, he affixed the small piece of fabric around the baby's hips before wrapping her in the blanket. He then hesitated, looking down at the lumps under his shirt. He knew he had to feed her. The book he had said that newborns needed to eat at least ten times a day, each session lasting from twenty to forty minutes. But he really didn't know what to expect as he lifted his shirt and positioned his baby closer.

 He gasped lightly as the infant latched on like second nature, beginning to suckle in a gentle rhythm. It certainly felt odd, and was slightly uncomfortable given the soreness of his breasts, but it wasn't painful. The whole thing was comforting, in a way. Bucky could feel his daughter's warmth against his chest, her little heart thumping away. He could smell her, clean and new. He had a daughter. A tiny little person that he was responsible for.

   "Well, hello again." Bucky cooed softly as the baby opened her eyes blue eyes back up. "Hey, pretty girl. Guess I need to give you a name, huh? What about...Margaret? Or Rebecca?"

 The baby looked rather unimpressed with his suggestions, continuing to feed.

   "Cut me some slack, I'm still trying to figure out who I am. Annabelle. Catherine?"

 His daughter paid him no mind, only stopping to fuss in protest when Bucky switched her to the other breast. He stopped talking and just let her drink in peace, still rattling off names in his head. He tried to recall more names from his youth and from things he had seen recently. Names he had read on flyers or billboards or in books. Something suitable. Susan? Violet? Hannah? He was too tired to think of something that suited his baby. Once she fell asleep Bucky could rest as well. A nap would do them both good.

 When the baby had had her fill of milk, Bucky gently lifted her to his shoulder and patted until she burped. It was a tiny noise, nearly inaudible.

   "There we go. We are we feeling? Huh? Look at you. Look at you, baby girl. You're my baby girl, aren't you? Yes. My baby. My…Evelyn. How about Evelyn? Do you like that?"

 The baby gazed up at Bucky's face as if she had understood that she had been asked a question. The two of them locked eyes, Bucky finding that his daughter's  gaze was far more focused than that of a regular newborn. Although, she wasn't a regular newborn in the slightest. Made to be HYDRA's next great weapon, the child was far more that just a child. The daughter of an enhanced ex-assassin. Would she inherit his strength? His speed? HYDRA had wanted intelligence as well. How smart would she be? What would she be like?

   "Evelyn. Mama loves you." Bucky whispered as his baby yawned. "Mama's never going to let you go. I'll raise you right. You'll never be a weapon. Never."

 

 

 Bucky looked a the little nub of flesh he held in his hand the next morning, knowing for a fact that the remaining umbilical cord was supposed to fall off in the next two weeks and not the morning after the baby was born. He looked to Evelyn, comfortable in her little nest of blankets, and realized that she was bigger than she had been the day before. Not by a whole lot, but enough for him to notice.

   "That's not normal."

 His daughter had aged at least two weeks overnight, bringing forth a whole new set or questions and worries. Evelyn had an accelerated growth rate, thanks to HYDRA, no doubt. Whether this new development would make it more or less difficult to raise his daughter, Bucky didn't know.


	2. Like A Weed

 Evelyn was four months by the end of the week. She had a full head of fuzzy black hair that had begun to curl at the ends. She could easily roll over from her back and onto her stomach, and then push herself up to her elbows to look around the room. She could somewhat sit up as long as Bucky supported her. She would reach out to grab anything, let it be a blanket or a bug on the ground or Bucky's hair. She could smile brightly, mostly at Bucky when he played with her. She still drank her mother's milk, yet to gain any teeth, though Bucky suspected that she would gain them in the next few days. It was all so confusing and unnatural, but Bucky learned to take it in stride. He still often consulted his notes and the child rearing book, wanting to do all that he could to stimulate, educate, and entertain his baby. Though still unsure if Evelyn was capable of actually understanding him, Bucky would still narrate his actions, no matter how simple. He explained what the sink did, what the fireplace was, what the blankets were made off. He told her the fuzzy memories of Brooklyn and Coney Island and a big science convention with a flying car. Bucky had to rely on rather simple games to entertain his baby, seeing as toys were rather limited. Peek-a-boo was popular.

   "Are you hiding?" Bucky cooed, amused as his daughter pulled a blanket over her face. "Where's the baby? Where's Evie?"

 The child pulled the cloth away with a giggle and a round of happy babbling.

   "There she is! Oh, where'd you go? Where's my---there she is!"

 Evelyn kept up the game even as Bucky gathered her in his arms and moved to the kitchen. He'd been lucky enough to discover that the root cellar had a decent amount of dried foods and jars of preservatives. It was enough to last them until the end of the month, but Bucky was planning on taking some along when it was time to move on. He planned on cutting through Russia and heading to Belarus. From there, maybe Romania.

   "So heavy." Bucky groaned in exaggeration as he balanced Evelyn on his hip. "You're growing like a weed, little lady. Mama can you use for weight lifting."

   "Aaaaaah!"

   "You don't say? Well then, I guess I need to rethink my training regimen. Any suggestions for lunch?"

   "Aaah."

   "Excellent suggestion. Are you hungry? As if I need to ask."

 Bucky's point was emphasized as his daughter tugged at the collar of his fraying shirt in an attempt to get milk. With a shake of his head, Bucky swiped as jar of preserved peaches and a handful of dried meats before returning to the living room and letting Evelyn feed as he ate.

   "We won't be staying here much longer. Not good to stay in one place for too long. There's a great big world out there, Evie, and a there's a lot of people who want me locked up or dead. We just need to keep our heads down and keep moving. Make sure no one looks twice at us. I'll keep you safe."

 Evelyn made a humming sound, perhaps in acknowledgement, and pushed herself closer into her mother's chest.

 

 

 

They left when Evelyn got her first two teeth, physically eight months at only two weeks. She could sit up by herself and could easily crawl, even beginning to pull herself up to her feet to try and walk. She could even say mama, and had begun to try and repeat things Bucky said. It was obvious she had an above average level of intelligence, being able to point out and identify various things, problem solve, and retain information easily.

 Bucky didn't breastfeed as often, as his daughter had taken an interest in soft foods and biting. The milk he produced had begun to dwindle, as well. Soon enough, he would have to rely on finding enough food to feed the both himself and his rapidly aging child.

 Bucky used blankets and strips of cloth to fashion a carrier, strapped the baby to his chest, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and set off on a trek through the countryside in the direction of the Russian border. He took the opportunity to point out the various things around them that Evelyn had yet to see. He told her the names of the farm animals they passed and the noises they made. He let her touch the bark of the trees and feel the roughness against her little palms.

   "Buh!" Evelyn pointing upwards to a hawk circling overhead.

   "That's right, it's a bird. That's a hawk."

   "Aw."

   "Very good." Bucky smiled, dropping a kiss on the child's wavy locks. "There are lots of different birds. Big ones and little ones. Some fly and some swim. There are birds that live in trees, and birds that live in the ground. Some have pretty songs, and others just like to yell. There are so many things in the world, Evie. Such nice, happy things. I hope you get to see them. I hope I can give you happiness, baby."

   "Mama!" Evelyn squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. Bucky took it as words of encouragement.

 Through a series of bribing and bartering in Kazakh with some locals, the lone mother was able to hitch a ride in the back of truck heading in the direction of the border. Bucky spun a story of a dead wife and losing visas in a fire, and just wanting to return to Russia. The Kazakh family took pity on him and his baby, and agreed to take them as far as they could. Bucky clambered into the back of the rickety truck along with an elderly woman and a few crates of cabbages. He let Evelyn inspect one the vegetables as he spoke with the old woman.

   "So pretty. Such a lovely baby."

   "Thank you." Bucky replied in Kazakh, knowing more than enough of the language to carry a conversation.

   "What is her name?"

   "...Nadia." He lied, choosing something more Russian.

   "Beautiful name." The woman nodded. "You are lucky, she does not even cry."

   "She'll cry once she's tired or gets hungry. She's having fun for now."

   "And you are alone with her?"

   "Just me."

 The women frowned sadly as she patted Bucky's leg in comfort. "You will do well. You love your baby, I see it. It burns like fire in your eyes."

 Bucky's lip twitched upward in a smile. "She's everything to me. She's all I have."

   "You are the same thing to her." The elderly woman nodded toward the Evelyn, who had grown bored of the cabbages and had moved on to chewing Bucky's fingers. "Hold each other while you can. She will grow up fast."

   "You have no idea."

 Once they reached the destination of a small town, Bucky said his farewell to the kind family and proceeded to tell the same fire and dead wife story to another person, who also agreed to take him a certain distance, and even directed him to someone who could make a decent fake visa for the right price.

 For three and a half days, they bounced from town to village, bartering and gaining favor until they were able to secretly board a train heading into Russia. And hidden within the cargo hold, between boxes and crates and luggage, Evelyn took her first wobbling steps into Bucky's waiting arms. There'd been such fierce determination in her young, gleaming eyes as she put one shaky foot in front of the other. Bucky had been close to sobbing as the baby crashed into his chest with a wide smile.

   "Good job, Evie! You did such a good job! Can you do it again? Come on, walk to Mama again. That's it, that's it! God, look you! You'll be running by the end of the day, won't you?"

 Evelyn happily smacked her hands against Bucky's cheeks in joy, leaning forward and pressing a sloppy baby kiss on her mother's nose.

   "Thank you, sweetie. Yes, you're a sweetie. Sweet like a strawberry."

   "Awbewwy!"

   "Are you Mama's little Strawberry? Hmm? Evie, let's teach you Russian, alright? We need to blend in when we get there. You're a smart girl, you'll learn fast, won't you?"

   "Luhn fa, Mama."

   "That's my special girl."

 Bucky patiently and methodically went through simple Russian vocabulary, naming animals and objects and repeating phrases. Basic things like 'hand that to me', 'come over here', 'don't touch that'. Just as he suspected, the child caught on quickly, even beginning to repeat things back and use context clues to figure out more unfamiliar terms. As the train chugged on, Bucky began to speak exclusively in Russian, with Evelyn already near fluent. 


	3. Always By Your Side

 The Russian marketplace bustled with people shouting and advertising their wares; food, clothing, cheap jewelry, etc. Bucky tightened his grip on his daughter's hand as they wove through the crowd to a produce stand, buffeted by the shoulders of passing bodies.

   "What's this one?" Evelyn asked her mother in Russian, pointing to a crate of fruit. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes to see better.

 Evelyn looked to be six years old at the age of four months. Her hair fell to her shoulders in soft, beautiful waves. Her baby teeth had started to fall out one after another, only for her adult teeth to grow fully in by the next day. She had most definitely inherited Bucky's enhanced speed, strength, and agility. Evelyn was faster than an Olympic sprinter and as nimble as a professional ballerina. Bucky took it upon himself to teach his daughter self defense when they were alone, guiding her in throwing punches and blocking attacks. It was scary how quickly she learned to hold herself in a fight. She was always buzzing with curiosity, wanting to know what things did and how they worked, where things came from, and why they did the things they did. Bucky could only answer so many of her questions, so he turned to scientific magazines and cheap textbooks he found in marketplaces. Able to speak both Russian and English, Evelyn was a force to be reckoned with. Well, she had the potential to be. But Evelyn was a passive child. She was timid around others, preferring to keep her voice down and avoid conflict. She was sensitive, crying easily and often hiding behind Bucky when frightened. She really was a sweet child.

 Bucky glanced the fruit over. "Limes. They're like lemons."

 Evelyn frowned. "Sour."

   "That's right. We'll buy something tasty. Look, this is called a mango."

   "Mango." Evelyn repeated, running her fingers across the fruit her mother held out.

 They bought their food and continued through the marketplace, Evelyn pointing to things and inquiring about them. But after a little while, as the two made their back to the condemned building they were calling home, the little girl went quiet and seemed to be deep in thought about something important. Bucky recognized the look in her eye; a calculating thought process was running through his daughter's mind, intent on working out a problem.

   "What's wrong, Strawberry?" He asked in English.

   "I was born on the first of the month…four months physically by one week…six years by four months…carry the one…" The child muttered to herself as she counted on her fingers. "One and a half years in one month…eighteen point two five days in one day. That's how fast I'm aging."

   "You figured out all that in your head? That's impressive."

   "Why am I different, Mama? We're both different. Why?"

 Bucky paused in pushing aside the dumpster that hid the hole into the rundown building. He should've known that she would ask those sort of questions eventually, and was honestly surprised that she hadn't asked soon. Even through his daughter was highly intelligent and capable of understanding even the most difficult things, how was he to explain her origins? How would she react? How would she view herself knowing she was made to be the next generation of HYDRA weaponry?

   "Mama? Please don't cry."

 He hadn't even realized the tears beginning to form until Evelyn said something. He dried his eyes with the collar of his shirt and ushered his daughter inside before anyone saw them. They had set up a sort of campsite in the old building composed of two sleeping bags, a small lantern, a few chipped and cracked plates and bowls, and a metal trashcan they used for fires. A few other things lay scattered about; some magazines, newspapers, a crappy hairbrush, and a few blankets. There was a small collection of rocks that Evelyn had deemed interesting based on either their color or shape.

   "Evie, c'mere." Bucky sighed as he took a seat on one of the sleeping bags, patting his lap. "I'll tell you what you want to know. It's confusing, and weird, and scary, and sad, but it's the truth. But sweetheart, I need you to remember that I love you. I love you so much. You're my girl, forever and always, no matter what. Alright. Sweetheart, did you ever read about something called HYDRA in any of your books?"

   "They were in a history book I found. They're bad people, Mama."

   "They are, baby. They're very bad and they've a lot of hurt people. And they hurt me, too."

 He took a breath and began to recount everything he could remember. He told his daughter the fleeting memories Brooklyn and Steve Rogers. He told her the bits and pieces of World War II. He told her of HYDRA and what they had done. He told her how they had turned him into a weapon. How they had decided to make a child that would be the next generation of HYDRA. He told her of the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and slowly regaining his memories of who he had been. The entire time he told his story, Evelyn listened quietly and patiently. She leaned closer into Bucky's chest, pressing her ear against him to listen to his heartbeat.

   "...I was made by HYDRA." She muttered after a while. "I was supposed to be HYDRA."

   "…Yes…" Bucky breathed, his voice wavering as he stroked his daughter's hair. "They made me able to have you so you would be able to do things I can. That's why I'm your mama even through I'm not a girl. And that's why you grow so fast."

   "…I don't want to be HYDRA." Evelyn whimpered, gripping her mother's shirt tighter. "I'm not. You're not. You don't do that stuff anymore. You're good. I'm good. …Aren't I?"

 Tears fell down both their cheeks as Evelyn looked into Bucky's eyes, searching for confirmation. She was panicked and confused and questioning everything. Bucky couldn't do much else but hold her as she cried.

   "I don't want to be a weapon. I'm not---Mama, tell me I'm not."

   "Evie, you will never be what HYDRA wanted. You're my baby. You're kind, and selfless, and wonderful. You're not capable of being bad, you hear me?"

 Evelyn hiccupped and shook with sobs, but managed a to nod. She flung her arms around her mother's neck and wept.

   "It's alright, sweetheart. I won't let you go. It's you and me. To hell with HYDRA. Mama's got you, baby.

 He swayed side to side in a rocking motion, quietly murmuring the lullaby from 'Dumbo'. Evelyn had been obsessed with the movie after they had found an old VHS and TV in one of their previous hideouts. Bucky vaguely remembered seeing in theaters when it was released back in the forties. It felt familiar and comforting. But Evelyn had ended up watching the tape so much that it wore down and broke, causing her to wail. Bucky soon found that the lullaby was a sure fire way of calming his daughter down.

   "Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than normal. Sorry. I'm trying to flesh it out more in the coming chapters.  
> Also, please leave comments. I appreciate your feedback and possible suggestions.


	4. Blood and Panic and Growing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn gets her period and Bucky is fucking clueless. A short chapter, but I felt it necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this earlier, but if you're familiar with the Hamilton soundtrack, I recommend listening to Dear Theodosia. I feel that song really conveys the same emotion Bucky has for Evelyn.

 Bucky was awakened one morning by his daughter screeching and wailing, shaking him violently and begging for him to wave up. He bolted upward, ready to tackle any intruders or police that had found them. His mind was working at a crazy rate, planning escape routes and mapping out where they could flee. But after a moment, he saw there was no one else in their crappy little Belarusian hideaway. He looked to his daughter, confused by her distress.

 Evelyn was around eight and a half months old and looked nearly thirteen. Her face was red from crying and her eyes were filled with fear and panic. She was close to hyperventilating, looking terrified as she cried.

   "MAMA! SOMETHING'S WRONG, I'M BLEEDING!"

 She held up her hands, showing Bucky blood covered fingers. His heart stopped for half a second, pulling his daughter closer to inspect her for wounds, any trace of fatigue disappearing instantly. A million horrific thoughts ran through his head, some rather preposterous, but anything was possible nowadays.

   "Where?! What happened?! Honey, show me where!"

 With shaking hands and gasping breaths, Evelyn lowered her hands to between her legs, drawing attention to the dark stain on her pants. Bucky paled at the realization that his daughter had woken up to her first menstrual cycle. His brain short circuited for a few moments, trying to think of the best course of action. How the hell did he forget about periods? How could he forget about one of the most fundamental parts of womanhood? How was he so dumb? Shit.

   "Evie, baby, look at me. Look at me. Calm down. You're not dying. Nothing's wrong. It’s ok."

   "I'm bleeding, how is nothing wrong?!" His daughter wailed, probably thinking she was dying.

 Bucky floundered, wracking his brain for the correct terminology and description of what was happening. The education system of the nineteen thirties taught him nothing on the subject of female anatomy, and HYDRA didn't give a damn, so he had to rely on the hazy memories of his mother explaining it to his sisters, and that was incredibly limited.

   "It---it's supposed to happen. It means that---uh, well---you're growing up---even more---and what's happening is---you see, girls have things called a uterus and…uh…"

   "You have no idea what you're talking about, do you?" Evelyn accused through her tears, voice bitter and on edge.

 Bucky flinched at his daughter's icy tone and shook his head in guilt. "Not really, no. Uh---ok. Ok, you wait here, and I'll go to find the drugstore. They have stuff for this. And I'll find a book. Breathe, baby. This happens to every girl. Relax. Clean yourself up and put a towel down there. I'll be back soon, I promise. It'll alright."

 Evelyn sniffled and tried to calm herself, tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's hurting now."

   "It's going to hurt, baby, I'm sorry. You're going to feel like crap. I'll get some medicine, too. Be strong, Strawberry. Something like this isn't going to stop Evelyn Barnes, is it?"

   "Hell no." The girl whimpered, arms curled around her stomach while she glared at the floor. "Just be back soon."

 

 

 

 Bucky scanned the large wall of feminine products in the little Belarusian drugstore, completely out of his element. He'd already picked up some generic acetaminophen, which said it would reduce menstrual pain. But as he looked upon the rows of pads and tampons and others things that he had never even seen before, Bucky felt very overwhelmed by it all. How often would Evelyn experience her period? Had bad would the pain be? He felt his head start to spin. He wasn't prepared for any of this. He didn't have a god damn clue.

   "Do you need help, Sir?"

 A female employee smiled politely and spoke in Belarusian, waiting to assist. Bucky blinked a few times, glancing between the woman and the products.

   "Ah…my daughter…"

   "First time?"

   "Yes…I'm not sure what to get…"

 The employee nodded in understanding. "I see. Did your wife recommend anything?"

 Bucky coughed awkwardly. "I don't have…it's just me and daughter. I don't know what do. Or how to explain it properly."

The woman made a face of pity and nodded once again, indicating to the wall. "Since it's her first time, I would recommend pads. Tampons can be rather uncomfortable and difficult when you don't know how to insert them properly. The blood flow will be light, but will get heavier as time goes on. Would you like me to give you a health pamphlet that explains all this? The schools just don't explain these things well enough."

 Bucky paid close attention as the employee went on about brands and different types of pads and ways to alleviate the pain from the cramps. She also complained about the prices of such necessary items and went into a small rant about gender discrimination in modern society, making rather good points that Bucky agreed to.

 He returned to the hideout and found Evelyn curled up in a sleeping bag, pale and tired. He handed her the plastic bag and the health pamphlet with a brief retelling of some of the things the employee had told him. Evelyn looked rather distressed and pissed off as she read through the little booklet.

   "This is bullshit! How is this evolutionarily beneficial?!"

   "I know, baby."

   "Seven days of this crap?! What the hell?!"

   "I'm sorry, Evie. That's how it works."

Evelyn bit angrily into a candy bar Bucky had also bought. "It's all bullshit. First boobs, now this. What do guys have to deal with? Nothing, that's what. Bullshit."

 Bucky hid his smirk as his daughter continued to grumble and express her disappointment in biology. He wrote down the development in one of his journals, wanting to keep track of everything. He had the dates of her first steps, when she lost her first tooth, the details of even the littlest things. It was grounding to keep a of record. He didn't want to forget anything else.

   "C'mere, Evie. How're you feeling? Still hurts?"

   "The medicine kicked in." Evelyn admitted, scooting toward her mother. "But I just feel all…gross. And aching"

   "I bet. Being a girl is tough. People need to give women more credit for all the shit they go through. Just rest for now, Strawberry."

 Evelyn hummed and moved so she could lay down and rest her head on Bucky's lap. Her black hair spilled around her head like a dark halo. It nearly fell to her waist now, and Bucky made a mental note to cut it soon. It was best to keep it shoulder length to avoid it getting tangled of caught on things. They stayed like that for a while; Bucky stroking and working his fingers through his daughter's dark locks as Evelyn began to fall asleep. He pulled the sleeping bag closer, unzipping it fully and draping it over the both of them like a blanket.

   "Rest up, honey."


	5. Fun And Then Run

 Over the course of a year, Evelyn had gone from a beautiful newborn to a gorgeous young woman. It was after her first birthday when she hit the physical age of eighteen, that it became apparent she had stopped aging rapidly. She was what HYDRA would have wanted; reaching peak physical perfection as soon as possible. Well, she was a bit on the short side at only about five foot four. But aside from her height, Evelyn would have been deemed a successful experiment by those who created her. Bucky hated to think of what she would have become if he hadn't regained his memories and ran. He shuddered at the mental image of his sweet Evelyn in HYDRA gear, wearing the same goggles and mask that Bucky once had. Every once and a while, Bucky would have the same nightmare of Evelyn staring at him with dead eyes as she held a gun to his head, whispering 'Hail HYDRA'. Bucky thanked every damn deity in the world that his baby girl hadn't been born in a lab somewhere and trained to kill.

 Evelyn pulled him along through the Romanian carnival, ushering him from booth to booth in excitement. It had been months since they had had a proper outing and just enjoyed themselves. Both of them had extraordinary aim, so they were able to win the rigged games easily and win crappy plush toys. They rode spinning teacups and rickety looking little bumper cars until they felt dizzy. They indulged in greasy food and ice cream, not caring that it would make them feel sick to their stomachs later. It was fantastic. It brought back fleeting, happy memories of days at Coney Island. Eating hotdogs, riding a rollercoaster, and blowing money trying to win prizes was familiar in such a wonderful way. And now he got to share it all with his daughter.

 Bucky grinned as Evelyn popped another balloon with a dart, earning her a large plush cow which she gifted to a wide eyed toddler passing by. She had done the same thing with every prize she had won, saying there was no room in their little apartment for so many stuffed animals. Bucky knew that she really just liked to see the children smile when they received a toy. She was a sweet girl.

   "How'd you get to be so sweet?" Bucky asked in Romanian.

 Evelyn shrugged, a skip in her step as they left the game booth. "I don't know. I like being nice. Being mean makes me feel bad."

 Bucky chuckled and slung his arm over his daughter's shoulders. "I guess that means I raised you well enough."

   "Given the circumstances, you did pretty damn amazing. But that's in my own biased opinion."

   "Only opinion that matters to me."

 Evelyn playfully punched him in the arm. "You big sap. What should we do next?"

   "I think there's a little petting zoo over there. Looks like they've got rabbits."

 Evelyn was in her element amongst various farm animals, gently patting and talking to the goats and sheep. Bucky smiled somewhat wickedly as he thought back to his daughter's first experience seeing such animals. Evelyn had only been about three years physically, and had cried her eyes out after a goat had tried to eat her jacket. The farmer they had befriend at the time was beyond apologetic and had tried to calm Evelyn down by showing her the chickens. The birds had pecked at the baby's hands, making her cry even harder. It took some time after that for Evelyn to trust farm animals again.

 Bucky leaned against the metal gate of the petting zoo and watched as his daughter cradled a rabbit, still amazed that she was his. It had been over a year since that day in Kazakhstan. Every major milestone of Evelyn's childhood had passed in a blur, and Bucky was disappointed he hadn't had a camera during it all. It was all somewhat bittersweet.

 

 

 Bucky's blood went ice cold as the newspaper declared that the Winter Soldier was responsible for the UN bombing. The owner of the newspaper stand had run off, no doubt going to alert the authorities after recognizing him.

 Evelyn stared down at paper in confusion, fear, and anger, looking to her mother for answers. Gripping the bag of plums in one hand, Bucky ushered his daughter back in the direction of their apartment. He weighed his options. It would most likely end in a fight, as it always did. He mapped out the number if ways out of Bucharest, trying figure out the fastest route that would also enable them to avoid law enforcement. He held Evelyn's hand tighter, trembling at the thought of what might happen to his baby if they were captured. Would she be deemed an enemy simply for existing? Would she be locked away to ensure the safety of others? Would she be experimented on, poked and prodded to find out her biological secrets? Would she be made into a weapon after all? Would she be executed, labeled as a genetic abomination made by HYDRA?

   "Mama, what are we going to do?"

   "Run. Run fast and far. Evelyn, listen to me. If it comes to it, we need to split up."

   "But I---"

   "They can't get you! They can't know that HYDRA made you. They'll see you as threat. You need to run if you have to. Promise me."

   "...Yes, Mama."

 An even bigger shock awaited them once they arrived back home, finding none other than Steve Rogers standing in their crappy kitchen. A flood of emotions washed over Bucky as he set eyes on the Captain. Steve Rogers had been an old friend. An old flame in Bucky's heart. There was still so much he didn't remember. But he remembered Steve. His Steve.


	6. Dust and Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but it had to end in suffering. We'll see what happens after Endgame. Thanks for reading.

 Wakanda was the best damn place in the world, according to Bucky. The weather, the sunsets, the food, the technology. Everything was incredible and beyond his wildest dreams. Even if he only had one arm and was doing farm work, it was a lot better than running for his life. Three meals a day, clothes, and a little hut was all he could ask for. And with the help of T'Challa's younger sister, Shuri, the HYDRA programming had been taken care of, making Bucky's mind his own once more. Things were pretty good.

 Bucky watched as Evelyn chased after two village children instead of helping him with the work. Her black hair flew out behind her as she played, running after the young Wakandans and laughing when they scampered up a nearby tree. Bucky's Xhosa still wasn't very good, but he could tell the children were taunting his daughter from their spots on the branches. Evelyn shouted something in fluent Xhosa, the clicks in the language not bothering her in the slightest.

 Evelyn was thriving in Wakanda. She adored the culture and history of the country, and the newfound freedom she had. Bucky had never seen her smile so wide as she explored and learned the ins and outs of the country. She was ecstatic about the unfamiliar flora and fauna, and was beyond excited to have access to such advanced technology. She was delighted to now have people to talk to, and quickly made friends with Shuri. The princess had a personal mission of making sure Evelyn was properly educated in pop culture and all things that teenagers normally did. Bucky was quite positive that the two girls could conquer the world if they wanted to.

   "Mama!" Evelyn grinned as she returned to her mother's side.

   "You ready to help now?"

   "They started it." Evelyn gestured to the children still in the tree. Bucky shook his head with a smile, pressing a quick kiss to his daughter's cheek.

   "What are they doing anyway?" Bucky mused as one of the children climbed down.

    "It's their favorite pastime; watching the grumpy, greasy white man work."

 Bucky snorted and ruffled Evelyn's hair so that it fell in her face. "Rude. Go make sure the goats don't go too far."

 Bucky breathed deeply as his daughter went to tend to the animals. Fresh air. The smell of grass and dirt and trees. Someone needed to bottle such a nice scent. Tranquility at last. Until it was shattered by Evelyn dashing back to him, and pointing to people approaching.

   "Something's up." Bucky muttered, more to himself than his daughter as the king came closer, Okoye and two King's Guard in tow. Evelyn greeted them with the cross-armed salute of Wakanda as one of the King's Guard set a elaborate and high tech box on the cart. It was opened to reveal an arm of Vibranium; silver in color with golden accents. Bucky stared down at the metal limb with resignation, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. This wasn't just a gift from Shuri.

   "Where's the fight?"

   "On it's way." T'Challa replied grimly.

 

 

 The whole city was on high alert. The Dora Milaje had never looked so terrifying. The King's Guard had been scrambled and the Border Tribe was gathering anyone capable of fighting. Even the Jabari had been alerted. When you're fighting an intergalactic maniac, you needed to pull out all the stops.

 Bucky had bathed, been fitted with the Vibranium arm, and been given new clothes and a machine gun. Evelyn went through a similar process and gained her own gun. She was a crack shot, no doubt, but Bucky still fretted over the potential enemies they were about to encounter.

   "Maybe you should stay in the palace." He suggested for the fifth time, causing Evelyn to frown as she tied her hair back.

   "Don't start with that."

   "Sweetheart, I really think---"

   "If you're fighting, I'm fighting. All hands on deck. Like hell I'm backing down now."

 Bucky tensed as his daughter held herself as tall as she could, looking more like an adult than ever before. When had she gotten so mature? When did she gain such a steely gaze of determination?

   "I'm your mother, I'm allowed to worry." Bucky countered

 Evelyn smiled gently and wrapped her arms around Bucky in a hug. "I know, Mama. I'm scared, too. But who are we to just stand by and let it happen? I want to fight. I want to do my part to keep people safe."

 Bucky squeezed his baby tighter, wanting nothing more than to send into the deepest cave Wakanda had to offer and tell her not to come out until the battle was over. But arguing with Evelyn never got anywhere. He was at least glad that her heart was in the right place. It was always in the right place.

 Both mother and daughter arrived outside the administrative buliding in time to see T'Challa greet their allies as they piled out of the Quinjet. There was an unfamiliar face among them; a worried looking man with salt and pepper hair who seemed quite out of his element. Evelyn seemed to recognize him, however.

   "Oh, my God. Dr. Bruce Banner. It's Bruce Banner. It's Bruce Banner!"

   "You know him?"

 Evelyn was wide eyed and nearly bouncing on her toes. "He's only one of the greatest minds of the century! I've read almost all of his papers; gamma radiation, bio-organics. His work on anti-electron collisions is phenomenal! He's as smart as Shuri, Mama! Am I screeching?"

   "Little bit." Bucky chuckled, not really having any idea what the girl was rambling about. He urged his daughter along, stepping forward as T'Challa listed off the forces they had at the ready.

   "You will have my King's Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…" The king gestured to Bucky and Evelyn.

   "A semi-stable, hundred year old man and his genetically engineered child." Bucky grinned as he presented himself to the love of his life.

 Steve's smile was tired, but grateful and relieved to see Bucky. He definitely looked a little worse for wear, but there was the strength to fight flickering in his eyes like a lit match, just like back in the forties. And the light of pure devotion and love burned like a wildfire as the captain pulled Bucky into a desperate kiss. It had been ages since they'd last seen each other in person, and with an alien war on the way, a passionate kiss was warranted. It probably would have gone into full blown sex under better circumstances.

   "How you been, Honey?"

   "Eh. Not bad, for the end of the world. God, I missed you so much. We're getting married after this, I'm telling you."

   "Oh, please, please!" Evelyn begging, bouncing on her toes. "It would be so beautiful! And, Steve, that would make you my Papa, right? Oh, it's a dream come true!"

   "When did he get a boyfriend?" Banner asked Rhodes softly, looking like he was about to have a breakdown. "Since when did---what?"

 Rhodes waved the doctor off as Evelyn all but shoved Bucky to the side in order to hug Steve. The captain lifted the girl off her feet, planting a kiss on the top of her head. He was such a dad.

   "Hey, Evie. Let's hold off on wedding planning for now. How're you holding up?"

   "I'm alright. It's nice here. Besides the whole alien invasion, things have been pretty good."

 Steve snorted a laugh and pushed her bangs back behind her ear. "Glad to see you got your mom's sense of humor. Aging normally?"

   "Surprisingly, yes! I thought for sure that I would've been made to age at a slower rate once I hit maturity, but apparently not. So, that's a positive."

 T'Challa and Okoye escorted the team upstairs to Shuri's lab, leaving Bucky and Evelyn to stand guard with Sam outside.

   "Glad to see you with your own head, man." Sam nodded. "How's Panther Land?"

   "Best damn place on the planet, Bird-Brain. Hope you're ready to fight for it."

   "Hell yeah."

 

 

 It was a flurry of action and death. The aliens released a horde of rampaging creatures that thought only of killing. Gnashing teeth and slashing claws surrounded Bucky from every angle. Round after round of bullets flew from his gun, effectively taking down the monsters, only to be met with a new wave. Evelyn was handing herself quite well, killing the vicious aliens without hesitation. She ducked and jumped and slid, at one point even shoving the gun directly into the mouth of one creature and pulling the trigger. When she wanted to be, Evelyn was ruthless.

 From out of nowhere came the God of Thunder, a tree person, and a talking raccoon with a gun. Seeing that life was already so god damn weird, Bucky didn't even question it when the racoon asked for his arm.

 It was all a blur. Shouting. Blood. Gunshots. Sweat. Pain. Then an eerie wind came. Ominous and filled with dread. He followed Steve's voice through the com unit, and came face to face with the one who was responsible for the horrors he had seen that day. Thanos was unlike anything he had ever seen; purple and looming over everyone. A metal glove with five different colored stones rested on his left hand.

 Bucky charged, intent on aiming directly for the head, only to be punched away in a shock-wave of purple. His ears rang as he hit the ground, head slamming against a rock. Through the haze, he could make out Evelyn's voice, but not her words. He could hear the fear and anger she had, and wished to comfort her and get her somewhere safe. But all he could do was force himself back to his feet and pick up his gun. It was now or never.

 But then came the snap. It ricocheted and echoed off the canyons and valleys, sending out a pulse of energy that must have been felt by everyone on the planet. It was a horrible feeling that made one feel hollow. A terrible empty feeling that made Bucky shudder. He stumbled forward towards his lover, disoriented and distraught. Evelyn was close behind, cradling an injured wrist. But they slowed their pace when their hands began to crumble into dust. Evelyn sucked in a terrified breath as her arm became ash, using her remaining hand to grasp at her mother's sleeve.

   "Steve?" Bucky called weakly, feeling nothing and yet everything. Horror. Pain. Anguish. Fury. All of them rolled into one as Evelyn whimpered in fright. In a split second, every memory of his child flew through his mind. Bleeding on the floor and holding her as a newborn. Curling up by the fire and nursing. The long nights consoling the infant as she wailed. Laying awake and just watching her breath. The first time she said 'Mama'. The first time she crawled. Her first steps within the cargo hold of the train. When she learned to read. When she laughed. When she cried. Everything Evelyn.

 Then Steve. Wonderful, stupid Steve who never knew when to back down from a fight. Steve, who got into scraps behind every dumpster and in every alleyway in Brooklyn. Steve, who plotted on how to illegally enlist in the army. Steve, who was so kind determined to do good. His Steve. His love.

 The sound of a fearful, "Mama..." was the last thing he heard.


End file.
